7 Minutes
by NopeFrickThat
Summary: Keith and Lance play seven minutes in heaven.


Lance has harbored a crush on Keith since seventh grade. Back then, Lance had been tall and gangly, disproportioned. His hair had been greasy because he hadn't yet discovered the importance of "showers," and he'd had zits dotting his forehead and cheeks. He'd been good enough at sports to make junior varsity right off the bat. Since he was friendly and funny and good at sports, he had paved his own way straight into the in crowd. He fit in easily, and he loved being the center of attention.

Keith was the exact opposite. He was several years off from his pubescent growth spurt back then. His hair had been short and cut badly, like he had taken scissors to it himself. He was quiet and didn't hang out with people in school. He didn't play sports, didn't join any clubs, and didn't hang out with any notable group of people. He should never have popped on Lance's radar at all.

It had been fate, in Lance's eyes. He had slept through his alarm and missed the bus. Since his mom and dad both left for work well before he woke up, he was SOL on hitching a ride. So he had thrown on clothes he picked up off his floor, snagged his backpack, and taken off from his house at full tilt. He was skidding around a corner, only one block from school, when he suddenly slammed into another person.

It had been Keith. His choppy hair had been pushed back with a headband, and he wore an oversized, ratty hoody that hung down mid-thigh. His blue jeans were torn at the knee and his white sneakers were brown with mud. Lance was flat on his ass looking up at Keith, who had managed to stay on his feet.

"Watch where you're going." Keith had said, his brows furrowed together. His lips, plush and shiny with chapstick to protect against the cold weather, were tilted into a deep frown.

That was that. Keith had kept walking, and Lance had sat there stunned on the ground, ass aching and palms scraped from the landing. It should have been the end of it, but apparently Lance's feelings had other plans. From then on, he noticed Keith everywhere. They shared three classes, their locker was in the same hallway, and they had the same lunch period. He couldn't stop his eyes from following Keith wherever he went. He tried to be friendly, but Keith was an awkward pre-teen. He grunted whenever Lance said hello, and shied away if Lance got too close.

In retrospect, not much had changed.

Now they're older, seniors to be exact. Five years later and Lance's crush still hadn't given up the ghost. Lance is taller now; his chest, shoulders and arms have filled out. He long ago discovered the importance of not only showering, but eating healthy, working out, and keeping his face clean. His hair is always washed and styled, his face scrubbed and moisturized. He's insanely attractive and he owns it, grinning at and flirting with the people around him. He is still a part of the in crowd, a close part, the foundation really. There are constantly cheerleaders and sports stars around him, laughing at his jokes and begging him to go to their parties. He flourishes under the attention.

Keith has gotten taller, too. He's still a couple inches shorter than Lance is. His hair is longer, but at least it looks professionally cut. He wears it in ponytails and buns, only occasionally shoving it back with a headband like he had that first day Lance saw him. His skin has always been clear, pale and smooth. In eighth grade, he had joined the anime club and is now the president. He had joined the fencing club in ninth grade, and Lance has been drooling after his arm muscles ever since. Lance shares four of his classes with him, including gym and lunch period, and their lockers are still in the same hallway.

Lance shouldn't be crushing on him. They aren't in the same social groups, they barely even talk. The only mutual friends they share are Hunk, who is basically friends with everyone, and Pidge, who is Hunk's best friend so falls under the same 'friends with everyone' umbrella. Shiro, Keith's older brother, could also count as a mutual friend, but he graduated last year.

Still. Lance watches Keith every chance he gets. He wants to talk to him, to get to know him beyond what Hunk has told him and what he has picked up from the rumor mill. He wants to have discussions with him beyond the basic "Did you take notes for English? Can I borrow them?" and "How's it going?" that he gets. He wants to spend real time with him. He wants to take him on a date, on multiple dates. He wants to be his boyfriend, hold his hand, kiss him, push him into a matress, fuck him silly. He wants to figure out everything there is to Keith Kogane, to dismantle him like a puzzle. Lance is outgoing and confident, but that never seems to faze Keith. He tries to initiate conversation, but he always gets cold shouldered.

It doesn't stop him from trying, though. He says hi every time he sees Keith in the halls; he always gets a curt nod in return. He asks him about homework; he gets a quick explanation or a page to reference from there textbooks. He pauses next to Keith's locker to ask how he's doing; he gets a "Fine," and a locker slammed in his face.

So they don't talk, but it's not for lack of trying on Lance's part.

Lance can't get his crush to go away for the life of him. The harder Keith shuts him out, the more Lance wants to be close to him.

It's early October, and he finds himself at a party after one of the best football games of the season. He's the running back for the team, and he absolutely destroyed tonight. They are a shoe in for the playoffs, and the entire high school seems to be celebrating their victory. There is beer and liquor flowing like water. People are dancing in the basement, bodies close and grinding. The bass of the music thumps through the entire two story house. Honestly, Lance has no idea whose house this is, but it's big and accommodates the crowd. There is a pool and hottub in the back, and more people than probably recommended are swarming the hottub. The people on the first floor are drinking and playing ridiculous games like truth or dare, twenty questions, seven minutes in heaven, and spin the bottle. The kitchen is full to bursting as people walk back and forth to get refills on drinks and dig into the spread of snacks. Lance doesn't bother wandering upstairs. He knows he'll see a lot more naked people than he bargained for.

For a while, he chats with people in the hottub. Hunk is there lounging in just in his boxer shorts, with a cup of what smells like straight vodka in his hands. He is tipsy and has a cheerleader sitting in his lap. Lance loves tipsy Hunk; he is cuddly and overly affectionate, and Lance adores him. Pidge is nearby, but true to form they have headphones in their ears and a book open in their lap. He pauses to ruffle their hair.

When he wanders back inside, the head cheerleader, Amanda, who has been hard core crushin on him this year, meets him in the kitchen. She is drunk and her breath smells like beer, but he easily holds her up when she leans into him. "Lance!" She slurs in his face as she grins. Her blond hair is slicked back in a tight bun, and her mascara is smudged. Her skirt is short and her crop top is shorter, but she still looks cute. She's sweaty, and he would bet money she's been downstairs dancing. "We're about to start a round of seven minutes, you should come play!" She tugs at his hand, and he can't say no to a pretty girl.

Instead of leading him to the one of the groups playing on the first floor, she leads him to the front lawn. It's still warm outside, but there is a chill to the wind that makes him glad for the jacket he's wearing. A huddle of twenty people stand outside of a small shed. There is talking and laughter, and the stars glitter overhead like diamonds. The group is an eclectic combination; there are several cheerleaders, one or two other football players, a couple of band members, some other unclassified people from their school and-

Lance's heart thrums in his chest. Among the group is none other than Keith Kogane. He's standing towards the fringes, arms crossed over his chest. He's wearing tight black skinny jeans and black hoodie with a NASA symbol on it. Lance wants him to turn around just so he can see how great his ass looks in those pants. Next to him is none other than Shiro. Allura, who is in the same grade as Keith and Lance, is leaning against him with his arms wrapped around her waist.

Lance passes Amanda off to her friends, who giggle and send him coy looks. He winks at them, then tucks his hands in his pockets and saunters over to where the trio are standing. "What's up," he says, grinning as he sidles close to Keith. "Enjoyin' the party?"

Keith eyes him warily and Shiro reaches for a fist bump. "It's not too bad." Shiro tells him. "You guys gonna make the playoffs this year?"

Lance nods. "I think we're set up pretty good to get there, yeah." He agrees, turning a flirtatious smile on Allura. "How's it hanging, beautiful?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "I'm fine, Lance. Good job tonight, you performed very well on the field."

He gives her a charming grin / finger gun combo. "I perform well other places, too, baby. Want me to show you?"

Shiro punches him in the arm, giving him a grin that is both warning and amused. "Hands off, pal, she's with me."

Lances grimaces as he rubs where he'd been punch. Point taken. "I know, I know, easy," he grouches. He slings an arm around Keith's shoulders. "What about you?" He asks, trying to lay on the charm. "Want me to show you how well I _perform_?"

Keith glares at him and shoves his arm off. "Fuck off, Lance."

Lance pouts at him. "Don't be like that, come on."

Shiro shakes his head. "You are barking up all the wrong trees tonight, Lance."

Frowning, Lance replies, "You guys were in line to play seven minutes first. I'm just trying to make nice with my options."

Keith opens his mouth to say something scathing, but one of the cheerleaders, Laura, interrupts. "Okay guys!" Her voice is chipper, but far less slurred than Amanda's had been. "I have twenty-two bottle caps in this bag. There are eleven pairs. When the bag gets passed to you, reach in and pull one out." One of the football players snatches her around the waist, lifting her up grabbing for the bag. She giggles and wiggles around in his arms plants a messy kiss on his cheek. "No cheating! Once everyone has a cap, I'll draw from a different bag to see who goes first. When it's your turn, you and your partner will go into the shed-"

One of the band geeks give a sharp wolf whistle, sending the group into a chorus of excited giggles. Lance watches Keith out of the corner of his eye; there is a pinch between his eyebrows and his lips are tilted downwards in a frown. Lance nudges him with his elbow, then leans down to whisper, "You don't have to play if you don't want to."

Keith glances at him sharply, and there is a challenge in his eyes. "I'm playing." He says firmly.

"Hey, hey!" Lance replies, raising his hands placatingly. "I'm not, like, objecting, I was just saying if you're uncomfortable-" he's cut off as Amanda shoves the bag under his nose.

"Lance, you gotta draw!" She whines shaking the bag and making the bottle caps clatter. Lance winks at her and takes the bag, making a show of digging his hand through to find the perfect cap. She giggles behind her hands, even as she keeps her eyes glued to the bag. When he pulls out a cap, he keeps it hidden in his fist. "Which one did you get?" she asks excitedly as he hands the bag back to her.

He presses a finger to his lips. "It's a secret."

"Awww, come on!" She says, digging out her own cap. She pulls out a purple Mike's Hard Lemonade cap and shows it to him. "I showed you mine, so now you have to show me yours."

Lance laughs at her innuendo, and she glows with pleasure. "You'll find out soon enough."

Grinning, she wanders back to her friends as the bag continues to pass around.

Opening his fist, he peaks at the cap in his hand. It's a blue Kinky Vodka cap, and he grins. That's a good start. He tucks it into his pocket for safe keeping. As people continue to pull out bottle caps, he turns to Shiro and asks, "So how are things, dude? I haven't seen you around since graduation."

Shiro shrugs as Allura leans harder into his chest. "It's been going. I ship for basic training in a couple weeks."

Lance sees Keith's shoulders tense. "Oh yeah? What branch?"

"Marines." Shiro answers. "I'm going in for helicopter maintenance, but I'm hoping to go to school at the same time so I can be a pilot."

The frown on Keith's face deepens, but he doesn't comment. Lance nods. "That sounds cool, dude. How long is basic?"

"Thirteen weeks," Shiro says sheepishly, arms tightening around Allura's waist. He presses a kiss to her hair. "And then I have technical training."

"That's a long time," Lance replies. He can tell that both Allura and Keith are anxious about Shiro leaving, so he decides not to press. Hopefully he'll get a chance later to ask for more information because that sounds badass. He wants to be a pilot, too, but he might go the Air Force route. He's not sure if he's cut out for that Marine life.

Laura trots up and hands the bag to Shiro. Lance thinks he hears her whisper, "I rigged it!" But he can't say for sure. Shiro pulls out a cap, and then Allura. They open their fists side-by-side, and then giggle happily when they have matching caps.

Keith is last. Allura passes the bag off to him and he hesitates before reaching inside. He pulls it out and hands the bag back Laura, who pats him on the shoulder with a kind smile before trotting back to the shed. Lance tries not to be obvious as he cranes his neck to see if he can catch a glimpse. He's not as sneaky as he meant to be, though, because he earns a glare as Keith sidesteps away from him.

"Mind your business," Keith snaps. He glances at the cap in his hands too fast for Lance to see.

"Mind your business, David," Lance mocks without meaning to. Lance sees the tiniest smile flash across Keith's face before it morphs back into a glare.

"Ok!" Laura calls, holding up a second sack of bottle caps. "I'm going to draw the first one!" She reaches her hand inside and digs around. The group around them holds their breath, anticipating the reveal. She pulls out her closed fist, then brandishes a bright blue Kinky Vodka cap between her hands.

Lance straightens with a grin. "Looks like I'm up first." He says, swaggering towards the shed. "Who's getting lucky tonight?" A murmur goes up in the group as people check and double check their bottle caps. He waits by the door of the shed, waiting for someone to join him. When no one does, he glances at Laura with a frown.

She's frowning, too. "I swear we have an even number of people, Lance, and there were two of each cap. Who has the blue Kinky cap?" she calls out, scanning the crowd with him. Lance glances around the group, eyes stopping on Keith. Shiro and Keith are in a furious whispering match, and in the dim light Keith's face looks red. "Anyone?" Laura calls out again. "If not, we'll move on and you can play next round, Lance."

Lance isn't paying attention to Laura. He sees Allura roll her eyes and shove Keith. He stumbles and makes a flustered noise. He drops the cap he had been holding in his grip. It's a blue Kinky Vodka cap. It lays in the grass, glinting innocently.

Lance's heart stops. Keith is looking at him wide eyed, like a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Lance wants to speak, to try to smooth the situation over, but words are caught in his throat. He meets Keith's eyes, and his stomach bursts into butterflies.

One of his teammates begins to laugh. "Go get 'em, Lance!" He shouts, and the group bursts into excited chatter. A couple of the girls moan their misfortune.

Lance's heart catches up with the situation, and begins pounding in his chest; his hands are shaking. His face is flaming, but he hopes it's not visibly red. A nervous laugh bubbles out of his chest and he says, "Don't worry, baby, I promise I'll show you a good time." He presses the door to the shed open.

Keith eyes him warily, frozen in place.

"For fucks sake, Keith," Lance hears Shiro whisper none too quietly. "Just do it."

Keith's face morphs into a pout. He throws a betrayed glance over his shoulder, then slumps forward. His shoulders are slouched and he drags his feet. Guilt churns in Lance's stomach because it truly looks like he's uncomfortable. Is it because it's Lance? The last thing he wants is to push Keith further away.

The same band nerd that whistled earlier whistles again, getting the entire crowd to cheer and clap as Keith walks into the shed. Trying to put on a confident front, Lance gives the group a two fingered salute and a flashy bow before following Keith in. The door closes behind them and what a lock clicks into place. Lance takes a second to let his eyes adjust. There is a window on the back wall; it let's in just enough light that Lance won't trip, but it's still dark. The shed is mostly empty. There is a lawn mower shoved towards the back and a couple of plastic tubs stacked against the walls. The chatter from the group outside is well muffled. Keith is leaning against a wall, arms crossed over his chest. Lance can't see much of his face.

Keeping his voice low, Lance says, "We don't have to do this, you know. I don't want to do this if you don't want to."

Lance can feel Keith's eyes on him in the dark. His heart dances in his chest; with every thump he feels the desire to _touch_ try to overwhelm him. He has always kept the lust part of his crush under control, but being this close to Keith knowing that the people outside are expecting them to make out is too much.

"It's fine," Keith deadpans, but he doesn't move. "If we don't they might shove us right back in when our time is up."

Lance fists his hands in his own shirt. "But if you don't want to-"

"Lance," Keith cuts him off.

Lance sucks a breath in through his nose, then lets it out slowly through his mouth. His mind races in a million directions. Did he brush his teeth before he came to this party? God, he hopes he doesn't taste weird. Will Keith taste sweet, like he had always imagined he would? How is he supposed to do this without feeding his stupid crush? He can't imagine making out with Keith and then just going back to the way they were before.

He takes a step towards Keith, then another. The shed is small, and he's in Keith's space in seconds. He presses his palms flat to the wall next to Keith's head and looks down into his face. He can see Keith better now that they're closer; he's looking back at Lance through his eyelashes, and he's worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

Lance can feel tiny puffs of air against his chin as Keith breathes. Bracing himself, he leans forward. He pauses, then presses a kiss to Keith's forehead. It's soft and affectionate, and his heart flutters. He might be overstepping his bounds - this is supposed to be a casual make out session after all - but he can't help himself. Keith's skin is soft under his lips.

"For fuck's sake, Lance," Keith murmurs when he pulls back. His voice is heavy with unnamed emotion. "Just kiss me already."

Their eyes meet in the dark. A spark lights in Lance's chest. Heat pools in his stomach. With bated breath, he leans forward, eyes slipping shut. Their lips brush and Lance tingles all over. He presses in again, slotting their lips together more firmly. Keith's are soft and pliant and hot. Keith tilts his head just so, sliding their lips together. Lance's insides jump and swirl. His palms clench into fists, and he presses them into the wall to keep himself from grabbing Keith and crushing him close.

He pulls back for a second to take a breath, then presses back in. He places quick, chaste kisses onto Keith's lips. Keith lets out a frustrated grunt and one of his hands snake around the back of his neck. He presses his fingers there and pulls Lance forward. When their lips meet again, Keith's lips are parted. Lance parts his lips in return, and slides his tongue across Keith's lower lip. It's swollen, and Lance shivers as he tongues across it. He nibbles it, pressing his teeth in and drawing back.

Keith draws a quick breath in through his nose and the hand on Lance's neck curls tight into his hair. A gentle tug pulls Lance away for a beat before the grip relaxes, allowing Lance to lean back in. From there, things get hot and slick as Lance licks into his mouth. Lance crowds further into Keith's space, pressing him hard against the wall. His attempts to keep his hands off of Keith's body become futile when Keith's free hand wraps around Lance's waist to tuck into the back pocket of his jeans. With one of Keith's hands fisted in his hair, and the other copping a feel, Lance finds it completely unfair that his are just pressed against a wall. One hand drops down to tease at the waist band of Keith's hoody, sliding it up so he can rest his palm on the curve of his hip. The other one goes to cup the side of Keith's face.

The kiss is smoldering and Lance is getting uncomfortably hard in his jeans. Keith is making tiny moaning sounds at the back of his throat and it's driving Lance absolutely wild. He breaks the kiss to press his lips to the skin beneath Keith's ear as he slides his thigh in between Keith's legs. He presses in and can feel a mirroring hardness against his hip. He pants against Keith's throat, sucking eager hickies into the pale flesh he finds there. Keith is grinding a rhythm against him, moaning quietly into his shoulder.

Lance wants to keep him like this forever.

Nipping hard at the lowest point of Keith's neck he can reach, Lance lifts his head to reconnect their kiss. He assumes there will be bruises where he had bit and sucked, and that makes a swell of pride bubble in his chest. It doesn't mean anything, but it feels like he's claimed Keith somehow, marked him as belonging to Lance. He presses his own hard on into Keith, setting a slow grinding pattern, pressing him harder against the wall. He sucks on Keith's tongue, then thrusts his own back and forth across Keith's lips.

Keith whines and arches into him, one hand clutched in his hair and the other pulling at Lance's ass for leverage. Lance moans in response, dipping his fingers teasingly beneath the waistband of Keith's pants. He smooths his thumb over the dip if his hip, inches away from Keith's hard cock. Lance wants to feel it in his hand, silky smooth and dripping. He puts a few inches between their bodies and reaches for the front of Keith's jeans.

Keith makes a noise of protest and grabs his wrist. Lance freezes immediately, yanked out of his haze of lust. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I got carried away-" he stammers out, moving to pull away from Keith completely.

Keith stops him by pulling his hand out of Lance's back pocket and cupping his face; he tangles his other hand with Lance's fingers, lacing them together so their palms press close. "Kiss me, Lance," he murmurs, his eyes half lidded.

Lance can't resist him; he presses Keith back against the wall, gentler this time. When their lips meet, the kiss is slower, sweeter. Keith's thumb strokes over Lance's cheekbone and he can feel himself melting into Keith's arms. He re-slots his free hand over Keith's hip, pulling them together. There is no grinding this time; there is only their hands twined, Keith's hand cupped across Lance's jaw, Lance's hand stroking Keith's hip as their lips slide together. It's hot in a whole new way.

Lance is half a second away from deepening the kiss for a second time when the door to the shed is flung open. Shiro is standing there with a shit eating grin on his face, Allura peering in behind him. "Times up!"

Lance moves to pull away, but Keith pulls him back with a low growl. He nips at Lance's lips, then shoves his tongue back into his mouth. The kiss is fierce and quick, and when Keith pulls away Lance is dazed. Keith lets him go and marches out of the shed, Lance following him. He feels like he's walking on the clouds; even the hoots, hollers and whistles don't wake him up. Shiro punches him in the shoulder with a grin.

One of his teammates, their quarterback, Michael, slings an arm around his shoulder. "How was it, bro? You made out with the weirdest kid in school." He laughs cruelly and ruffles Lance's hair. "No homo, though, right? It's just a game after all."

Shiro and Keith both freeze; Allura wraps her hand around Shiro's bicep, her face set. Keith's face morphs from the wide grin he had been sporting to something blank and guarded. Shiro's arm tightens around his shoulder protectively, and he scowls at Michael. There is a warning in his gaze.

Lance takes a breath and pulls out from underneath Michael's arm. "Nah, man, all the homo. Super homo." The crowd around them goes quiet. "And he's not weird, asshole. He's beautiful and amazing and you can fuck right off."

There is a weighted silence, then Michael slaps him on the shoulder with an awkward laugh. "Calm down, dude. I was just giving you shit. Don't take it so seriously!"

The group around them turns back to their idle chatter, and Laura draws another bottle cap. Amanda and Michael are the next pair to go in, but Lance can't bring himself to care about the game anymore. He wanders over to where Keith, Shiro, and Allura are standing.

"Michael's a dick." He says when he's close enough. "Just ignore him."

"Did you mean that?" Keith asks him.

Shiro turns to Allura with wide eyed and tugs on her arm. "We should, uh, go stand over here-" he drags her away.

They are standing separate from the bulk of the group, but Lance still feels exposed. He rubs his neck sheepishly. "I don't generally say things I don't mean."

Keith eyes him curiously.

"Do you wanna get breakfast with me sometime?" Lance asks after a moment of silence passes. "I mean, I just dry humped you in a shed. I feel like I should probably at least buy you a meal."

"I'd like that," Keith says quietly. He reaches out a hand and brushes his fingers over Lance's wrist. Lance takes the cue and carefully twines their fingers together. "I'd like that a lot."


End file.
